The Incredible True Story of the Making of the Eve of Destruction
Page 17
Kitty and Raymond hadn’t arrived yet. In fact, Tyson tried radioing for them using the walkie-talkie, but they weren’t answering.
“It might not work. We’re kind of in a dead zone,” Max told Tyson.
“Ugh, I long for civilization,” Tyson said.
“You’re an asshole. You know that, right?” Max asked.
“I’ve been told that.”
“Well, I’m glad that you’ve been told.”
Tyson grabbed Owen’s arm. “Laura?” he asked.
“No, it’s Tyson.”
“Seriously, first you think I’m Astrid and now Tyson? I’m officially offended,” I said. “How much solution did they use to dilate your eyes?”
“Who knows—but I did hear an ‘oops’ and then ‘oh shit,’” Owen said.
“Yikes,” I said.
“We have to get this right the first time,” Mr. Edman said after he gathered us around. “We only have one shot. Right when I say ‘action,’ we need to go. Skeet’s going to set off the explosions, and we’ll film it. Dylan’s got this, right?”
Dylan nodded.
“I hate to be that person, but I can’t see your nod, if you’re nodding. Did Dylan nod?” Owen asked anyone who would listen.
“That’s an affirmative,” said Freddy.
It had been an hour, and Kitty and Raymond hadn’t made it here. It shouldn’t have taken them that long. But Tyson said they probably got distracted with the scene going on simultaneously on Main Street. Most businesses down on Main Street were delaying opening until after filming began. Some were going to be closed all day. Like, Dewayne’s bookstore was going to be closed. He was going to be a victim. He got seventy-five dollars to shave his head—and beard. And if you knew him, you would know that was a major deal. A lot of my classmates were going to be victims today too. The director didn’t want to use anyone under the age of twelve. I guessed he didn’t want children to be traumatized, even though being traumatized was all the rage. The director, with the help of Dylan here and Eddie Payne, BC-AD Productions, and Economy Pictures, was planning to traumatize viewers with two disturbing hours of Hiroshima in the Ozarks.
“We’ll do two practice takes and then one on film, got it?” the director asked.
Everyone nodded.
“Is everyone nodding?” Owen asked.
“Yes, they’re all nodding,” the director said, sounding annoyed. “Honestly, just assume they’re all nodding to anything that is being asked.”
“You don’t have to be a jerk about it,” Owen said, crossing his arms, but he kind of lost his footing, and without Freddy grabbing him, he would have fallen over.
“You all right, buddy?” Freddy asked.
“How close am I going to be to the edge of the mountain when we’re looking at the bomb going off?” Owen asked.
“Not that close,” Dylan said.
“Okay, good.”
“Now everyone, rest. It’s going to be a while. Tyson, I need the walkie-talkie,” the director said.
Tyson ran over to hand the walkie-talkie to him.
“So what do we do now?” I asked anyone who would listen.
“Practice lines,” said Tyson. “You don’t want to look a fool.”
I found a corner in the cave that Max was hiding out in and practiced.
“You’re good at this acting thing,” Max said to me.
“Really?” I asked.
“Sure. But it can’t be that hard. Astrid does it.”
“You do know how to lift one’s spirits, don’t you?”
Tyson came in the cave complaining that the walkie-talkies weren’t working. He was shaking it, like that was going to get it to work.
“Service’s not so good up here,” Max said.
“That’s just great,” Tyson said, starting to walk out of the cave.
“Wait, Tyson,” Freddy called.
“Yeah?”
“Are Kitty and Raymond here?”
He shook his head. “But don’t worry. Norman says it’s okay, you look good to go.”
We practiced standing on the edge of Crow Mountain and pretended that we were watching Pikesville burn.
Tyson was trying to get the walkie-talkies to work. He walked clear across the mountaintop, or at least to where we were.
“Come in, anyone. Come in, anyone. This is Tyson. Does anyone copy?” Tyson would press the button, talk, and then release it, waiting for someone, anyone, to reply.
Seeing him so worried was making me worried.
“This is Pyrotechnic Extraordinaire. Copy?” Skeet said.
“Got him!” Tyson said, running to the director.
The director took the walkie-talkie and pressed the button.
Director: “Norman for Skeet. Copy that?”
Skeet: “Go for Skeet.”
Director: “Are you ready? Copy?”
Skeet: “Ready to burn Pikesville. Hell, yeah.”
Director: “You’ll be on the walkie-talkie with Tyson. Copy?”
Tyson looked sick.
Skeet: “Ty Ty.”
Director: “Yes, Ty Ty.”
Skeet: “Totally stoked.”
Director: “How about a countdown? Copy?”
Skeet: “Copy that.”
Director: “Okay, stand by for Tyson.”
Skeet: “Standing by for Ty Ty.”
Tyson took the walkie-talkie from the director.
“Okay, we’ll have one more run-through, and then we’ll be ready to shoot,” the director said through his bullhorn.
We scrambled back into place.
Terrence had one line. He was proud of that one line. Had worked on that one line for a long time.
Skeet: “Skeet for Ty Ty. Copy that?”
Tyson: “Go for Tyson.”
Skeet: “We are ready to go. Copy?”
Tyson: “Copy that.”
“Skeet’s ready,” Tyson yelled.
“Then so are we,” the director said.
We got in position: “James,” “Helen,” “Hank,” and “Jackson,” aka Terrence.
Skeet: “Skeet for Ty Ty. Copy that?”
Tyson: “Go for Tyson.”
Skeet: “Sirens are blaring. Copy?”
Tyson: “Copy that.”
“The sirens are blaring,” Tyson said.
“Yes, they’re supposed to; we paid off the auxiliary,” the director said. “Tell Skeet we’re ready. Commence countdown.”
Tyson: “Tyson for Skeet. Copy that?”
Skeet: “Go for Skeet.”
Tyson: “Commence countdown. Copy that?”
Skeet: “Commencing countdown. Copy.”
We didn’t move. We were afraid to, actually. There was only one chance to get this right. Skeet had rigged the explosions to mimic a nuclear bomb. In the editing room, they would really make it look like a mushroom cloud.
Skeet: “Skeet to the survivors. Copy that?”
Tyson: “Copy.”
Dylan filmed, and we watched the sky, ready to play the part we were meant to play.
Skeet: “Commencing countdown. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One—”
“Okay, remember, one shot. We’re breaking ground here. Freddy and Terrence in one scene. Wow!” the director screamed. “And ACTION.”
EXT. PIKESVILLE MOUNTAIN—MORNING
JAMES, HELEN, HANK, and JACKSON stand on the mountaintop near the edge, watching the town undergo a Civil Defense drill.
The Radio Station plays a message.
RADIO MESSAGE
A Civil Defense test, to test the vulnerability of the cities across the continental United States, Alaska, Hawaii, Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands, and Canada, will occur at 10 a.m. today; normal activities of the
city are to be suspended for ten minutes while the “bombing” takes place—
Sirens sound.
The Radio Station plays a message.
RADIO MESSAGE
Your attention, please. This is Neal Perkins, one of your official Civil Defense broadcasters, with a special message. Military authorities have advised us that an enemy attack by air is imminent. This is a Red Alert. You are advised to go to the nearest shelter in your area immediately. Find shelter. There is no time to leave the city. Your state Civil Defense director has just issued the following instructions: Please remain calm. Every precaution will be taken for your protection. Keep your radio turned to this place on the dial throughout the alert period for information. Telephone service to your home may be cut off to permit military and Civil Defense authorities to carry out vital operations. Do not attempt to join your family or your children if they are now separated from you. They will be cared for where they are. Obey your Civil Defense warden and find shelter now. Take shelter in your basement or in your nearest shelter area. If you can plug in your radio in a basement, take it with you. Use a portable radio set if you have one; otherwise turn up the volume on your radio so that you can hear it in the basement. Keep calm—don’t lose your head. If you are at work, obey your Civil Defense authorities. Go quickly and calmly to your designated shelter. If your children are at school, they are being directed to shelter by their teachers. If you are in an automobile, pull over to the curb and then go immediately to the nearest shelter area. Do not leave your car where it will block traffic. This station will continue to stay on the air throughout the alert period to bring you all authentic information and official instructions. Stay tuned to AM 640 or 1240 on your radio for official information. Refuse to listen to unauthorized rumors or broadcasts. This is your official Civil Defense Broadcast.
JAMES, HELEN, HANK, and JACKSON grab hands.
HANK
Nothing is going to happen.
HANK squeezes HELEN’s hand.
HELEN
I know.
JAMES
But what if it does?
JAMES turns to HELEN and looks at HANK.
JAMES (CONT’D)
This would be the perfect time for the Ruskies to attack.
HELEN
It would, wouldn’t it?
JAMES
It would.
HANK
But they won’t. No one will. It’s just a test, practice in case of the real thing.
JAMES
But what if it’s real? What if the
government knows that the Ruskies are going to attack and this is one way to control panic?
HELEN
That’s a whole lot of what-ifs.
JAMES
I know.
HELEN shrugs and looks at HANK, biting her bottom lip.
HELEN
The government wouldn’t do that. It wouldn’t lie to us—
HELEN lets go of JAMES’s and HANK’s hands.
HELEN (CONT’D)
Would they?
JAMES
If it does happen, we have a front-row seat to Armageddon.
HANK
That’s a comforting thought.
JAMES
Well, the very existence of the USSR is not part of America’s plan—
HELEN
The same could be said about America not being a part of the USSR’s plan.
HANK
The next atomic war—
JAMES
When was the first one?
HANK
You’ve heard of that there World War II, eh?
JAMES
Yes, but World War II was ended with two atomic bombs being dropped. It was not an atomic war.
HELEN
I have a bad feeling about this.
HELEN takes JAMES’s hand and then HANK’s hand.
JAMES
Just remember: if it does, look away from the light.
HANK
The what?
JAMES
The flash.
HANK
The what?
A bright light flashes across the sky.
JAMES, HELEN, and JACKSON turn away. HANK looks right into the flash and instantly becomes blind.
HANK screams.
HANK (CONT’D)
My eyes.
HELEN
It was real. All of it was real.
JAMES
What have they done?
HELEN
My God, what have we done?
JACKSON
We’re at war, and we’re going to find out who did this, and we’re going to kick their ass.
FADE TO BLACK.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“And cut!”
We cheered and jumped and celebrated. Sure, we were covered in dirt, and the sky was covered in ash and fire and dust, and it looked real—too real. But we celebrated.
“Skeet outdid himself,” Mr. Edman said, clapping. “Bravo. Bravo.”
Dylan kept filming. B-roll, or whatever it was called. The director went over to Tyson and took the walkie-talkie out of his hand.
Director: “Norman for Skeet. Copy?”
Silence.
Director: “Norman for Skeet. Copy?”
Silence.
Director: “Norman for Skeet. Copy? What’s your twenty?”
Silence.
Nothing. “Absolutely nothing.”
It was quiet. Really quiet. Too quiet. No animals were making noise. No vehicles were on the interstate, but the police had stopped them when Skeet set off the explosions for safety reasons.
Director: “Norman for Skeet. Copy?”
Skeet: “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”
Skeet: “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!”
Skeet: “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”
Skeet: “Run, run, run, run, go, go, go, go, go, go—”
Director: “Norman for Skeet. Copy?”
Nothing. Silence.
“Well, that was strange,” the director said, handing the walkie-talkie back to Tyson. “I wonder if he thought the explosion was going to be that big.”
The three of them witnessed the attacks on Pikesville. The citizens did not make it to their shelters in time. The planned government-issued Civil Defense drill across the nation failed. Unbeknownst to all, it was a surprise attack. “This might be a bomb” turned out to actually be one.
The sky to the northeast glowed brilliant in the midmorning sun. The damage was extensive, but the three who witnessed the atomic blast on the mountaintop did not know just how extensive.
Eve of Destruction, Book, page 168.
Chapter Thirty-Five
We stood on the side of Crow Mountain and stared out at the horizon. There was a lot of smoke, and it reached high into the atmosphere. Fires were raging. Lots of them.
“This doesn’t look right,” the bus driver said.
“What doesn’t look right?” Tyson asked.
“Did your explosives guy just blow up half of Arkansas?”
“Nah,” Tyson said, shaking his head.
Owen stood off to the side, his eyes giving him a lot of problems. He still couldn’t see. How much solution had they given him to dilate his eyes? He had a handkerchief in his pocket and somehow twisted it and flipped it and wrapped it around his eyes and tied it behind his head. He leaned up against the bus and scooted himself down on the dirty, dusty ground.
The bus driver tried to get a better look. He stepped closer to the mountain’s edge and leaned forward. But he lost his footing and started to fall. Tyson ran over there to help. I screamed. He grabbed the bus driver’s waist, and they both fell back.
“What’s going on
?” Owen asked. I stood beside him. He reached out for my arm but found my boob instead. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to touch that.”
“The bus driver almost went over the mountain—with Tyson,” I said.
“What?”
“The bus driver almost went over the mountain with Tyson,” I said again.
“We need to radio for help,” the bus driver said.
“Why?” Dylan asked.
“I dropped the keys.”
“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit,” the director repeated. “We’ll lose half the day, and we still have the girl’s death scene.”
Dylan grabbed the walkie-talkie out of the director’s back pants pocket and pushed down the button.
Dylan: “Dylan for Skeet. Copy?”
Nothing.
Dylan: “Dylan for Skeet. Copy?”
Still nothing.
Dylan: “Dylan for Skeet. Copy?”
Again, still nothing.
“They’re probably busy dealing with that,” Freddy said, pointing to the smoke in the distance.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Maybe the explosives knocked out power,” Terrence said.
“That’s probably it,” the director said. “It was a big explosion. I bet it looked great on film.”
“Yeah, it looked great,” Dylan said through the camera lens.
Tyson and the bus driver slowly walked back over to where we were. They were still visibly shaken.
“You guys okay?” I asked.
“I will be—eventually,” Tyson said.
“I don’t know about him, but I need a clean pair of britches,” the bus driver said, and Tyson agreed.
“Well, Tyson, I’m glad you didn’t go over. A good assistant is really hard to find,” said the director as Tyson gave him a sidelong glance.